


I want it all (and I want it now)

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: (at the beginning), Bottom Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth Might Be Innocent But Not In That Sense, Brienne of Tarth Might Be a Virgin But Is Not Clueless, Communication Failure, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy Fulfillment, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, I Blame Tumblr, Loss of Virginity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Spitefic, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tumblr Prompt, Wall Sex, Woman on Top, brienne's wanted to hit that since asos and you can't convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 04:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16632500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “Wench, did you forget who you’re about to give your maidenhead, unless you changed your mind? Because I don’t think I am the most proper man around here.”“Fair,” she smiles, and now she’s looking at him fondly, and he wishes he knew what he did right to have her look at him like that, but he will think about it one day. Not now. “Well. Uhm. Jaime, men talk. Do you think that while living in a military camp, I heard nothing?”Or: in which Jaime has to reconsider his very, very wrong notions about what Brienne's supposedinnocenceentails. Then again, he's extremely glad to be wrong.





	I want it all (and I want it now)

**Author's Note:**

> So, last day I was on tumblr minding my business and answering asks about what kind of nfsw business would these two be up to and some genius shows up informing me that _the way you talk about it you'd think that brienne wasn't a huge virgin. fun au!_ , as if a) I wasn't implying they wouldn't do that THE FIRST TIME, b) B. being a *virgin* means that that she doesn't know anything about how having sex with a guy works, which given that she lived months in between soldiers seems to me fairly ridiculous, and of course it brought more discourse I could do without, then an anon goes like _U.U okay what about these hc: Jaime being super insecure about touching Brienne because he thinks she as a virgin is so innocent and her being like IM WAITING FOR THIS SINCE ASOS C'MON_ and I went like WELL WHY THE HELL NO.
> 
> Have some spite porn, if it goes on like this I'll write spite porn until the end of 2019. *shrug* Anyway, as usual: no one here belongs to me, the title is from Queen because the biopic is about to come out, I'm on a kick and I should feel bad about it except that I think everyone in that band would approve of my nefarious uses of it and I'll saunter vaguely downwards all over again. Have fun XD

It’s not that Jaime is currently trying to _not_ fall prey to a part of him whispering, _you’ll fuck it up_.

Except that he _is_.

It’s not that he _doesn’t_ want to do this, oh, no, he _does_ , if he has to be honest with himself he’s wanted to since Harrenhaal even if he hadn’t realized it then —

( _when she was naked in front of him and his body most likely knew better than he did, or before he did_ )

but — but as she closes the door of the room in Winterfell that Sansa and Jon Snow granted them after they escorted her and the Vale army just in time to help him take back their ancestral home, he can’t help thinking, _what if I do this wrong_?

It’s just — they’ve kissed for the first time a few days after she killed what was left of Catelyn Stark to save _him_ , after he finally got out of her that she had been about to get hanged rather than kill him and he had thought, _who else in this wretched world ever would have died for the likes of me_?, and then he had found the guts to go for it because at that point he had realized what he wanted, or better, _who_ he wanted. They’ve slept together since then, but they haven’t done anything else past that, and he honestly had figured that she wanted to stay a maiden and he hadn’t pressed for anything more.

That is, until a few days ago she had asked if he maybe didn’t _want_ her like that, and he had realized that she hadn’t asked in the first place because she thought he might find her displeasing under that armor and _that_ wouldn’t do, so he had smiled and said, _wench, I would do that now but I should like to think that at least you should lose your maidenhead in a proper bed_ , and she had blushed and they had agreed on finding _a proper bed for it_.

Now they have one, and he just — he _wants_ her, so much he could burst with it, but — gods, she’s a _maiden_. And she’s just — he doesn’t know what she’s expecting, he doesn’t know how to approach this because certainly the only other time he took someone’s maidenhead she was also taking _his own_ and it hadn’t been slow or considerate or anything except a blur of passion, and — it’s not the same thing. And gods, he’s _happy_ it’s not, because he doesn’t think he wants that anymore. Maybe until he thought he and Cersei were really the same, until he thought he would always want what she wanted because that was just how things were… but not now. Now he wants to take his time, he wants a proper bed indeed, he wants to wake up next to her, he wants to avoid thinking _and what if someone finds us_ all the time, and gods, she probably wants this to be sweet and _long_ , wouldn’t she? After all, isn’t that how maidens always seem to like it in songs? Lying down and being pleasured for hours?

Jaime has no idea if he even _knows_ how to do that — with Cersei it would always be fast and he’d be worrying about someone finding them out, and the few times they could indulge in it it never was _slow_ or — song-like, he guesses. Gods, he cannot believe that at the ripe age of four and thirty he goes around telling Peck to use sweet words and gentle touches on his woman and to treat her as he would his bride when he _never_ had the chance to do it himself, and then he gets rid of his golden hand, now _that_ would be a hindrance, kicks off his boots distractedly, and —

“Jaime?”

He turns to look at Brienne.

“Yes?” He asks, and then words die in his throat when he sees that she’s already naked, same as she was in Harrenhaal. Her clothes are neatly piled on a chair near the fire, and she had taken off her armor before, so now she’s standing with nothing hiding her flat, toned stomach from his sight, nor the freckles on her arms or just over her breasts, nor her large shoulders, nor the blonde hair over her crotch.

He can feel his cock stirring in his breeches, and _thankfully_ now he’s hardly surprised that it would happen when seeing Brienne naked. He shakes his head and walks over the furs covering the ground until he reaches her, taking in her skin, her muscles, the scars she has on her shoulders, and _gods_ , he wants to do right by her, he _really_ does, but he doesn’t want to get it wrong. He can’t. She deserves way better than him doing wrong by her, or admittedly, she deserves way better than _him_ , but — never mind that. His eyes meet hers, so wide, of that astonishing color, so blue he could fucking drown in it.

“Are — are you sure about this?” She asks, sounding worried.

“Of course I am,” he immediately says, even if his hand is stuck at his side because he’s just — he’s running through everything he might do, but _all_ the options seem too rough or too coarse or too, well, _unworthy_. She’s never done this, he doesn’t even know how much she knows about how it’s supposed to go, and —

“Then — you know,” she prompts, “I, uh, what I mean is, you can — go ahead. If you want.”

“I _do_ ,” he says, immediately, because he does, fuck if he _does_ , maybe he should just drop to his knees, that might work, but would it be too abrupt? Or does she want —

“Well, I told you I did as well,” she says, and she’s blushing _hard_ but when he looks up at her the stare doesn’t waver. Right. Then she’s obviously expecting something. Thing is, _what_ —

“It’s just — I — hells, I don’t know how to put it, but —”

“If you want I can put the shirt back —” She starts, sounding resigned, but he immediately grabs her arm with his left hand, shaking his head.

“No,” he says, “hells, of course _not_ , I could look at you wearing nothing for a year, but it’s just, if this is the first time you do it, I don’t want to — it’s not like I ever did this with someone who wasn’t, well, _Cersei_ , and I knew that she _knew_ what to expect, I guess, and I never exactly thought about, and I doubt it’s the same for you, _fuck_ —” He’s fairly sure he’s not making any sense, but apparently he did to Brienne, because a moment later her eyes go wide, she stares at him, and —

And she breaks down _laughing_?

“Wench, what —” He starts, but never finishes because she keeps on laughing, harder, then shakes her head, wipes at her eyes and sits on the bed, taking a deep breath.

“ _That_ was the problem? That you think I don’t… know what’s expecting me?” She finally wheezes.

“Excuse me if I was worrying about not being an arse here,” he snaps, but then she shakes her head again.

“Jaime, that’s — remarkably — sweet of you, but how long do you think I stayed in Renly’s camp before — well, before I didn’t anymore?”

He thinks about it. “Well, months I guess, given how long I was prisoner, but —”

“How many _women_ that weren’t camp followers do you think lived there?” Brienne presses, and _then_ he immediately realizes where she’s aiming at.

“Wait, you mean that —”

“While I do realize,” she says, still blushing though not as hard as before, “that, uh, men might have ideas about what _maidens_ know about, well, _this_ , I spent months sharing tents with other men. Soldiers, even. And — gods, I cannot believe I am saying this, but when you take off those breeches, well, believe me, you will be — the first man I lie with, but you would hardly be the first man I see naked.” Her skin flushes harder. “Actually, I couldn’t tell you how many others I _did_ see naked.”

… How did he not even _think_ about that?

All right, fine, you wouldn’t know just by looking at her and at her eyes and at how she discuss oaths and honor and integrity and not more crass matters, but — he _knew_ that she spent months surrounded by other soldiers, and he assumed — oh, hells, now _he_ has to laugh as well while he drops sitting down next to her, feeling somehow relieved. “Fine,” he wheezes, “I was an idiot.”

“No,” she says, “that was — remarkably thoughtful, but — wholly unnecessary. I doubt that whatever you’re thinking would be too much.”

 _Was I even that transparent_? He unlaces his shirt, at least he can do that with one hand only. “ _Whatever I’m thinking_?”

“Well, you _are_ worrying about something, and — gods, I —” She stops, shakes her head, looks straight at him. “I will say this just once.” Her blue eyes look darker in the firelight, but she also looks — with those flushed cheeks and parted lips and her tongue wetting one corner before retreating back inside her mouth, her entire body naked… no, she’s hardly the _picture_ of innocence right now, at least not the way people would take most noble maidens to be.

“All — all right.”

“I — I never presumed _you_ would ever… _want_ me like this, but I’ve dreamed that you might _s_ ince Harrenhaal, I think.”

“You — since _then_?”

“Well, I only realized it fully after you came back for me, but that’s not — that’s not the point. I’ve been wanting _this_ since then, so whatever it is that worries you, _well_ , most likely you don’t need to waste time with it.”

Oh. _Oh_. He swallows, getting rid of his shirt, and he’s thankful she doesn’t attempt to help him out when he’s not asking first.

Shit. He _really_ was going at this all wrong, wasn’t he. And now that he thinks about it it really feels like he was worrying for nothing.

“For that matter,” she blurts after he’s thrown the shirt to the side, “uh, if you’re worrying about _what_ to do, I — gods, this isn’t — I doubt you could make me feel uncomfortable with anything.” She breathes in, her hand covering his right wrist, and he holds his breath as she looks straight at him again. “I mean, uhm, I don’t know how to put it _properly_ , but —”

“Wench, did you forget who you’re about to give your maidenhead, unless you changed your mind? Because I don’t think _I_ am the most proper man around here.”

“Fair,” she smiles, and now she’s looking at him fondly, and he wishes he knew what he did right to have her look at him like that, but he will think about it one day. Not now. “Well. Uhm. Jaime, men _talk_. Do you think that while living in a military camp, I heard nothing?”

… _Oh_.

He thinks _he_ is flushing now, because — well, thing is, he was in the _Kingsguard_ , but surely his fellow white cloaks did not discuss _that_ , not with the chastity vow they had technically sworn, and then — well, he’s been around armies, sure, mostly during the Greyjoy rebellion and in his stint in the Riverlands, but during the Rebellion he was around Robert most of the time because _that_ was his job, wasn’t it, and in the Riverlands he stuck to talking to Ilyn Payne, he didn’t exactly mingle. Gods, _she_ most likely heard more talk in between soldiers than _he_ ever did, for that matter.

“I suppose not,” he says.

“I — I did. Quite a lot of things,” she blurts. “And gods, I — I don’t think just about my _vows_ all the time, you know.”

He lets that sink in. Then he realizes his heartbeat has sped up. A _lot_.

“And may I be so bold to ask what does my lady _think about_ , then?”

Her other hand tentatively reaches out, her fingers brushing against his chest. “About quite a lot of things,” she says, her hand slipping down towards the laces on his breeches. He gives her a terse nod before she opens them — he stands up, letting them fall down, and he can see her eyes widen as she finally sees him naked, not that she hadn’t before, but now — now it’s different, isn’t it? Except that… she’s staring at him with — something that might seem like hunger, even if she’s obviously holding back. She certainly doesn’t look like she’s worried he will do something she won’t like.

“And what if I wished to know about this — lot of things?” He says.

She stands up, moving in front of him — their bare feet are on the furs covering the floor, the fire still going strong. “Well — the men in that camp, they barely paid attention to me when they didn’t want to. They — they spoke freely.”

“Did they,” Jaime says as her hands tentatively touch his hips and his left cups her breast, slow.

“They did. Most of them were fairly, how to put it, crass, and they spoke of how much they enjoyed _taking_ women — quite roughly. Most of them did brag about it quite a lot. Some even about taking them from behind, or so they liked to say.” She doesn’t sound _too_ impressed with most of it. “But some, er, were — less crass. I suppose. They did talk about what _they_ wanted from, uh, the act. I guess.”

She’s blushing even harder now, but she’s holding his stare and he’s holding his breath. “And you — thought about — experiencing that?”

“… Not exactly,” she says, sounding frustrated. “I — gods, I’m not too sure —”

“Brienne, for — until a moment ago I was worrying about whether you’d think I was being _too forward_ , how about you put us both out of our misery and just say it? Honestly, you’re talking to _me_ , I doubt I have much ground to judge whatever it is that you want?”

She _stares_ at him, and then —

Then it’s like a dam breaking open.

“What _I_ want?” She snorts. “Very well. Jaime, I spent _months_ listening to people discussing either the quickest way to find pleasure in a woman _or_ talking about how much they liked it when their women sucked them off for — _a long time_ , let’s leave it at that, or how much they liked it when they’d touch them all over, and then they also discussed taking them while standing, and as things are, I _might_ have — thought about it, more than once, _enough_ times, but when I did, I — I wasn’t the one, well, lying back and taking it.”

Jaime’s throat goes dry at once. “You mean that —”

“You said you dreamed of me, didn’t you? Well, _I_ might have _dreamed_ of doing what they said they liked _to_ you, more than once, and since I remembered one of them talking about how _great_ it was one time when he _ravished a serving wench_ against the wall of his inn room and she was _wetter than the Trident when he manhandled her around_ , or so he bragged, and I — thought about doing that with _you_ , except that _I_ would be the one holding you up against the wall, gods, and I _know_ this is really improper and unbecoming and it probably shows that I’m not — I mean, I _know_ ladies aren’t really supposed to have such thoughts, but then again I guess I couldn’t be one even when it comes to _this_ , so — now you know, and _yes_ , I did think about it even if I haven’t, well, _done_ anything. Gods, this is _so_ embarrassing —”

“It’s not,” he says at once, and she looks back up at him, and she probably notices that _he_ ’s most likely flushing and when she glances down at his crotch she can see that he got _harder_ just hearing her talk, but — the moment he pictured it his blood went straight under his waist, and he had no idea that she had _thought about it_ , and apparently in detail, but the idea that she might have wanted him _that_ much makes him shiver in the good way, and if he was doubting before about what he could do, now he has a feeling that anything would be welcomed. That’s not the point, though. The point is that she _does_ have more than an inkling on how this goes and he can’t believe he actually thought she wouldn’t now that she said it, but — “Humor me,” he says.

“… Yes?”

“Tell me _exactly_ what you meant with _holding me up against the wall_.”

“Jaime —”

“No,” he says, “I _really_ want to know that.”

She swallows, shivering for a moment, before her hand closes around his maimed wrist again. “I — I’d kiss you first. I would — take my time with it. I mean, at least we’ve done that enough times now that I wouldn’t feel — inadequate.”

“You never were _inadequate_ ,” he protests.

“That’s — not the point. I — I would run my hands all over your back,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I would have one around your neck while we kissed. Maybe in your hair. I’d tug it, but slow. I — I wouldn’t want it to be fast. I would want to feel you against me. Then — then I would use my hand on you,” she goes on, sounding slightly less embarrassed now. _Slightly_. As far as Jaime is concerned, he’s _entirely_ fine with that prospect. “If — if you finished, I would do it again. Then — I would put my hands under your thighs and — well, put you up against the wall. And I would have you _in_ me, then, but slowly. I wouldn’t want to rush it. I know I could handle it. We would kiss while I do it. I’d want you to finish inside me,” she blurts, still blushing the color of ripe strawberries. “Gods, I know this is absolutely inappropriate, I’m _sorry_ —”

“Do it,” he says instead.

“ _What_?” She exclaims, obviously not having expected it.

“Do it,” he says, his throat feeling completely dry while his cock is everything but. Hells, he’s not touching himself just out of self-control, but he’s so hard he would come in a minute if he did, but just listening to her describe it is making his head spin and he had no idea she was thinking _that_ , but he thinks he likes it, and so what if _he_ doesn’t take her maidenhead but _she_ lets him take it? Gods, just the thought is about to make him even harder.

He had no idea he wanted it, but now that she’s describing it, it sounds so _alluring_ , he just — he wants it. Hells, he wants it as much as he wants her, or about so, and he moans inside her mouth when she tentatively presses her lips to his again. She _has_ learned, since they started doing this, and she’s true to her word; she doesn’t move her mouth from his for a while, just as her hands start running all over his back, her rough skin pressing circles inside it before moving upwards and then down, trailing all over his spine, until they reach is hair. Brienne grasps a few locks, _gently_ , tugging it as they keep on kissing, and the fact that she’s doing it hard enough to make him feel it not but enough to actually hurt is making it even better, this while her other hand is still trailing along his spine, and she kisses him like she’s hungry for it, and maybe she _was_ if she thought about this for as long as she said —

Yeah, well, it’s probably not even surprising that the moment she starts jerking him off, her rough fingertips wrapping tentatively at first around his cock at first but then stroking him much more surely after she finds her rhythm, he comes so embarrassingly fast he would have felt ashamed of it, if she hadn’t said before that she might have _wanted_ that.

“Hells,” he says as relief washes through him — because he was so hard it _hurt_ by then — and as he looks up at her, “that wasn’t — too becoming of me now, was it?”

Her cheeks are still flushed as she shakes her head. “All the contrary,” she says. “I mean, if — it means I’m not bad at it, right?”

The suggestion is so ludicrous he would laugh, if he wasn’t still too distracted by how good it felt, however brief. “Do not even jape about that, wench. I have a feeling you’re everything but.”

“Oh, so do you need more proof?” She sounds a bit relieved now, and he stares back up at her.

“I don’t recall that your plan stopped _here_ now, or did it?”

She swallows, shakes her head, looks down at his spent cock, with the face of someone _very_ determined to bring it back to life.

“It did not,” she agrees, and then her hand is on him again as she experimentally starts to jerk him off _again_ , but this time she doesn’t just go ahead and do it — she runs her thumb along the head, slow, finding the slit as he pushes up against her hand, and hells, he doesn’t know if he’s more turned on by the fact that she’s never done it to someone else but she definitely knows what she’s doing, or by the fact that her ideal plan to lose her maidenhead is _this_ , but then he’s too busy moaning her name while she moves her other hand behind his cock, brushing her fingers over his balls, _very_ gently, but pressing enough that for a moment he feels like arching off the bed. She stops for a moment, and he’s fairly sure she said under her breath something along the lines of _oh, so it did work,_ and then she’s doing it _again_ and… hells, he’s not five and ten anymore — he _wishes_ , but that can’t happen, can it — but she apparently doesn’t mind waiting, and he barely even needs to tell her to move her fingers harder or faster or slower because she’s looking down _and_ up and obviously noticing what is working and what’s not and _shit_ , it’s not as if he remembers Cersei ever doing _that_ because it really wasn’t about _him_ , not in that sense, and if he thinks about what Brienne said she wanted to do after —

“Are you — sure about the rest?” She asks when he’s definitely hard again, her palm slick with precome. “I mean, we can do it like this, I —”

“Brienne, if you _don’t_ do it I think I would be very disappointed,” he manages to say as he feels like he won’t have breath for very much longer.

“If that’s how it is,” she says then, and suddenly her hands are not on him anymore, but she’s stood up and moved in front of him, and — “I think you might want to grab my shoulders.”

He does, with his left arm, while he moves the right over her neck for what he can manage, and she doesn’t even blink when his stump touches her nape. Before he can say anything about it, though, her hands reach out under his thighs and lift him up in one motion, not too fast, and he can’t help thinking that her grip is gentle, _very_ gentle, same as it was at Harrenhaal, but before he can think too much about _that_ either, she’s turned and pushed him up against the wall and _hells_ , she really doesn’t seem to be bothered about it or like it’s much of an effort, and all right, _all right_ , he hadn’t known he wanted this but now that she’s doing it he doesn’t know how he hadn’t even thought about it before.

She presses him up against the wall a bit more, then clears her throat. “I think the point was that I should _lose_ my maidenhead now, wasn’t it?” She asks, and he doesn’t know how she actually manages to sound _both_ blunt and sincere as she’s holding him up as he weighs nothing, but when he realizes she’s not dropping him anytime soon he nods and moves his left from her back to her cunt — she’s standing with her legs opened, so he can reach it easily enough, and —

Gods, she’s _wet_ , he realizes, so wet that when he tries to slide a finger in he barely meets any resistance.

“Oh,” she says as he pushes it in further, “it’s — _better_ if it’s you.”

“What,” he moans, “did you — do it yourself before?”

“Of — of _course_ I did,” she sighs, sounding like she can’t even believe he asked. “If all the men — I have been around could do that, _surely_ I could as well.”

Hells. _Hells_ , he needs to get a grip. He slides a second finger in. “And — what did you think about when you did it?” He doesn’t know if he should have asked, but —

“In the beginning? A lot of things,” she says as she grabs his thighs harder while he curls his fingers inside her and she clenches around them. “Since Harrenhaal? Just — about you. The few times it started without you, it always… ended with you,” she says, and _now_ she sounds maybe slightly shy, but just the idea that she has touched herself while thinking about _him_ and most likely not something quick and dirty, given the way she talks about it, is — fuck. _Fuck_ , he has to hold back because if now he comes without her even touching him… that would definitely convince her she’s good at this, but that wasn’t the entire point now, was it?

“Hells,” he groans, sliding his fingers in and out again, “I’m not — I need —”

“Do it,” she says, “ _please_ , do it.” She moves closer, so that she’s lining up with him, and he takes a very, very deep breath before reaching down and lining his cock with her cunt while her grip gives out just a bit so it’s easier, and then she nods and he slides in and _fuck_ , she’s warm and _wet_ and while her arms are trembling slightly she hasn’t certainly let him fall, _good_ — now he’s buried inside her and she’s breathing hard, getting adjusted, but from her flushed cheeks and wide open blue eyes, he thinks she’s not _hating_ it.

Then she nods, lifts him up again _even if he’s barely holding on to her_ , moves back to the bed without breaking the contact and she doesn’t even drop him unceremoniously — she does it slow, just before she moves completely on top of him as he lies down.

“Maybe like _this_ it’d be easier,” she says, almost sheepish, but then she rolls her hips experimentally upward and then _down_ and he’s fairly sure people might have heard him downstairs for how loud he moaned, but he doesn’t care, not as she does it again, and _again_ , her eyes blown in pleasure — the next time she does it, he thrust upwards experimentally just as she moves down and the sound that leaves her mouth is downright filthy and he just — he doesn’t even know what they’re doing anymore but he doesn’t mind any of that.

“Closer,” she blurts, and he moves his left behind her shoulders again, and _hells_ now she’s riding him slower as they kiss — when it breaks, one of her hands stays at the back of his head and another moves down to his right wrist, holding it against her hip, and at that point he buries his head in the middle of her chest. Her breasts might not be large or pillowy but the right one is soft against his cheek as he nuzzles against it, and the hand at the back of his head _pushes_ as his mouth trails along the side while she keeps on riding him, and at this point he’s close, he’s _really_ close, and he can feel that she’s clenching around him tighter — until she moves his right wrist upwards, wait, _what_ —

The moment she turns her head and runs her tongue along the scar right in the middle of his stump he can’t hold it back anymore — he screams her name as he spills inside her, and maybe he should have pulled out but her thighs are keeping him right where he is and she’s making no motion to change the situation, and he hears her moan his name as she clenches down on him _again_ , her lips kissing his wrist before she lets it drop and she peaks as well, her head leaning down to find his mouth as she rides him through the aftershocks, and he doesn’t even remember how he was expecting this to go when they started, but — but what just happened is wildly beyond it, and he lets her hold him close as she keeps on riding him as she comes, and it’s not _fast_ — it takes longer than it did for him, and by the time she’s taking deep breaths and her grip has gone slacker, they’re still holding on to each other and he feels as if he just walked out of a two-hours long battle, except that it’s _better_ because his muscles hurt in all the best ways (and hers more than his, probably), and he can barely even feel it, not when there isn’t a single part of him that’s not thrumming in pleasure.

“I,” he declares as soon as he regains his breath, “will _never_ presume any maiden’s _innocence_ on these matters in my entire life. Even if I should hope I wouldn’t need to in the first place.”

She laughs as she gets off him, but she doesn’t move on the other side of the bed nor stops holding on to him as she does. “Maybe it would be a good idea,” Brienne agrees, and now she’s flushed for wildly different reasons, but she also looks radiant and her eyes are still that same lovely blue but… when they met he’d have never thought she could pull of a teasing glance convincingly but she _is_ , and the best thing is, she doesn’t look _done_. “Especially because, uh, that was — not the only thing I had imagined.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, there is more now?”

“Ser,” she says, tentatively matching his grin, “ _some_ of us… former maidens don’t only think about oaths or honor or _chastity vows_. And _some of us_ , while assuming we might stay maidens for a long time _or_ assuming it would never be, well, pleasurable, have had years to come up with possible alternatives.”

He looks down at the bloodied sheets and at the come streaking both her thighs and stomach and his own, and he decides that he likes this side of her very, very much.

“ _My lady_ ,” he quips back, “while I am more than amenable to hear you out, I think that it might take me a while before I am ready again. _Still_ ,” he says, lying back down fully and glancing at her cunt, “I think I should like to not waste our time.”

She flushes so red it would be endearing, if he hadn’t _just_ seen her riding him until he was completely spent. “And what if,” she says, straddling him, “I might have thought about you, uhm —” She starts, shaking her head.

“Let me guess, putting my mouth on your cunt until you can only think about how _that_ feels?”

She swallows. “What if I did?”

“I’m not moving, am I?”

She smiles tentatively, straddling him all over again. “Very well,” she says, “but after you’re done, _I_ want to do the same to you. I might have thought about _that_ , too.”

Jaime’s spent cock twitches in interest just thinking about Brienne doing it, moving back down on the bed, wrapping her mouth around it — she has soft lips, and she _can_ use her tongue, he knows that by now, and the idea that she _thought_ about sucking him off for he doesn’t know how long is turning his blood hot all over again.

“I say,” he grins, “that it’s a vow I can absolutely bear for you to uphold.” He waits until her grin matches is, and then the moment she’s lined up to him he buries his head against her cunt, his tongue meeting the warm, wet softness of it, taking his time before he lets it slide inside, and then he feels her fingers gently carding through his hair and petting his neck and his back, as she moans softly and says that it feels _amazing_ , and —

He grins. It seems like he _did_ get his soft words and gentle touches, one way or the other.

And he thinks he’s very, very glad that she’s nowhere near done for today, because _neither is he_ , and he’s going to take full advantage of it.

 

End.


End file.
